


d20 (or, the one where steve loses a bet)

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author Takes the Canon and Kicks It Into The Sun, Bets & Wagers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Brad Pitt - Freeform, D20, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Iron Captain - Freeform, Male Friendship, Mild Language, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Slightly Out Of Character, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, all because Clint made a dick joke offscreen, also a canon bubble, alternately titled raviv has been playing dnd recently, bad pop culture references, discussion of Fight Club which I have never seen, discussion of freebie lists, exists in a vague time bubble as do all my avengers fics, in reference to stucky not stony, is that a thing? it is now, pepper and tony are soulmates, projection? idk her, relaxed narration, steve's big gay crush on bucky, stony doesn't exist in my canon because they're just buds and also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 12:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Steve Rogers loses a (very dumb, like astoundingly dumb, it is impossible to stress the level of dumb this is) bet.





	d20 (or, the one where steve loses a bet)

**Author's Note:**

> me sitting down to write this at 11pm: this is gonna be a short little fic and ill whack it out in an hour tops and be done!  
> me right now, at 1:21 am, 3.7k words later: ...well.  
> fortunately it didn't get out of hand too much, so here is a silly little one-shot of steve losing a bet, which i am sure he does a lot. and also, i forgot to include this, but yes, tony stark absolutely played dungeons & dragons at some point in his youth. let me have it.  
> also, this was written all in one sitting (magical for me, i never do that anymore - it's very satisfying!) so if you find any mistakes...please tell me. i will fix them. unless the mistake is "this plot is dumb and these characters are OOC". i can't help you with that. it's 1am.

“Betcha he makes a dick joke,” Tony says, watching Barton and Romanoff swiftly do their damage to the bureau.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “That’s disgusting, Tony.”

“I’m serious. I’ll bet you. Name your price.”

“Making a bet with a multi-billionaire is futile,” Steve says, by way of protest. “Something else.”

Tony thinks for a second, and then his face lights up. “Okay, how about this,” he starts. “You know Dungeons & Dragons?”

* * *

  


“I just want to restate, for the record, that I don’t want to do this.”

“You did this to yourself, Cap,” Tony says, grinning victoriously. “For believing too hard in the purity of Barton’s dirty, rotten soul.”

“Thanks,” says Clint, from the island where he’s sitting, snacking on chips.

Tony raises the 20-sided die and his smile is like a Cheshire cat’s. “The day starts officially...now.”

And oh, is Steve screwed.

“Start with breakfast,” Clint suggests.

“Ten and under is sugary cereal, over ten is burned eggs.” Tony rolls the die onto the island. “Seventeen! Anyone know how to burn eggs?”

Steve slumps over the island and buries his face in his hands.

* * *

  


It is clearly not Steve’s day today, not  _ least _ because Tony is shadowing his every move.

“Ten and under means we go to Coney Island and ride the ferris wheel, over ten means you wear a spare Iron Man suit but I remote control it,” Tony says about twelve minutes after Steve finishes eating his (awful, burnt, chalky) breakfast.

“Please no,” Steve says, but he mostly knows he’s going to be ignored.

Tony tosses the die onto the island again, and it lands in front of Steve, an eleven. Tony peers over at it. “Ooh, harsh. Well, suit up, I guess.”

“I won’t fit any of your suits,” Steve argues halfheartedly. “I’m bigger than you.”

Tony scoffs. “Please. I know that. But, since I am a genius and a lovable friend with a heart of gold, I made one for all of the Avengers. For safety reasons. Clearly. Is it not clear yet that your safety is of the utmost importance to me? JARVIS, the Captain’s suit, please.”

“In your workshop, sir,” JARVIS replies. If it were possible for AIs to sound amused, Steve is sure JARVIS would be nailing it right now.

“Great! Right this way, Goody Red-White-and-Blue Shoes.”

Steve follows, dreading.

* * *

  


The suit is a horrifying clash of red, white, and blue. And there’s a huge white star across the breastplate.

“I have to ask,” Steve says, because he does, “are you doing this because you hate me.”

Tony pats Steve’s cheek, cheekily. “Absolutely not. I’m doing this because I  _ value  _ you.”

“Feels like same difference to me,” Steve mutters. “Look, if we get a call to go in, this bet is postponed, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Tony handwaves the protest. He gestures at the suit. “In.”

“Oh, I really don’t want to,” Steve says, grimacing.

“I know you don’t,” says Tony, and Steve steps towards the suit. It whirs open as he does, and, resigned, Steve fits himself into it.

“It’s as dashing as I thought it would be,” Tony says brightly, when the helmet slides shut and an HUD illuminates Steve’s vision. He blinks. “What do you think, JARVIS? Note: make the arms bulkier. Gotta show the muscle somehow.”

“This is really, really weird,” Steve says.

“It looks dashing, Captain,” JARVIS says, and Steve jerks his head back. “My apologies. I am patched into all Iron Man helmets and thereabout designs. If it startles you, for this demonstrative purpose, I could remove —”

“No way,” Tony interrupts, before Steve can say the same thing but nicer. “Don’t be a party pooper, Jarv. Okay, Cap. Ready? We’re gonna make a pit stop and then we’ll give the good New York people a show.”

“I don’t like this,” Steve whines, in case God is listening.

“Hey JARVIS, roll to see if we’re visiting Wanda or...uh, Barnes first.”

Steve turns his head with some difficulty; mobility is hindered in the Iron Man suit, but he sees through the eyes of the mask that Tony has also put on his Iron Man suit.

“The roll is a sixteen, sir.”

“Bucky it is!”

Well, at least there’s that. At least he’ll get to see Bucky.

He will get to see Bucky while effectively under control of Tony Stark.

Actually, he would suddenly  _ really _ rather not.

* * *

  


“Is there a failsafe in this suit?” Steve asks abruptly as he’s being jerked around the sky, panicked. “In case the remote control fails?”

“Really? You  _ really _ don’t trust me. Wow. I thought we were building a relationship, Rogers. I’m hurt. Wounded, actually.”

“Tony.”

“ _ Yes, _ there’s a failsafe. The failsafe is called me, being an engineer who knows his way around a fucking Iron Man suit. Oh, by the way, yours is called Iron Captain. Patent pending.”

Of course it is.

“Brace yourself!” Tony chirps. They swoop downward, Steve’s stomach revolting against this motion until it ends. They’re suspended over a balcony in Brooklyn, and Steve knows it’s Bucky’s apartment. “Big finish, here we go. Land on one knee, like a superhero.”

Steve doesn’t really want to. But it’s not exactly up to him, so they make their superheroic finishes at the same time, and Steve lands in a superhero pose. The faceplate of his helmet flips open. Steve inhales the fresh air.

The balcony door cracks open. “Steve?” Bucky says. His eyes land on Tony. “Stark,” he says suspiciously. Then, back to Steve: “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Long story,” Steve pants, straightening up. “I lost a bet.”

“And  _ I, _ ” Tony puts in cheerily, “won! JARVIS, roll to kiss Bucky.”

Bucky and Steve manage to make exactly identical faces of horror, but before either of them can dissent or splutter or (in Steve’s case) blush, JARVIS’s voice speaks up, projected from the Iron Man suit. “I’m afraid that roll could result in non-consensual actions, which you have requested I forestall. Would you like to override this command?”

Steve and Bucky exhale in relief (and Steve’s faceplate flips up again for a bit, until the deep unsolicited blush dies down).

Tony frowns. “You ruin my fun, JARVIS.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Roll?” Bucky echoes. “What the hell is going on?”

* * *

  


“Ten and under says the good Captain drinks chamomile tea, over ten and he drinks seltzer.” Tony tosses the d20 across Bucky’s coffee table like a gambler throwing dice.

“I don’t have either of those things,” Bucky says flatly. “Why is he manipulating you, Steve.”

“One,” Tony says. He looks up at Steve, and then Bucky. “Do you have  _ any _ tea?”

“I’m not participating in this,” Bucky says.

Steve sighs. “You have to. It’s part of the bet. As long as no one is getting hurt, he gets to make my decisions. By...rolling a die.”

Bucky clearly does not like this, by the daggers he’s glaring at Tony. But he staidly says, “I have six different kinds of tea and I’m not listing them. Cabinet above the toaster.”

“BRB,” Tony says, jumping up. “Don’t do anything in my absence, Steve. You know the rules. I know you’re horny for rules.”

Steve almost chokes, but dignifiedly, he says, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tony makes for the kitchen.

“Stevie,” Bucky says seriously. “Can I tell you something.”

Steve nods.

“You’re an idiot, and this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

Steve nods again. “Yeah,” he says. “No, I agree with you 100%.”

* * *

  


“Well, it’s been fun,” Tony says, “but we should go. People to see, more people to see, you know the drill. Cap’s a busy man.”

“I just want you to know, Stark, that I hate you for this,” Bucky says lightly.

Tony shrugs. “No great loss. You hated me before. Onward, noble steed!”

“See ya,” Steve says, waving mournfully to Bucky, who had been pleasant company as ever despite Tony’s constant rolls (“Ooh, roll for Steve to tell Bucky an embarrassing secret he’s never heard! Eight? Damn it.”).

“Come back when you’re not under the influence,” Bucky says, jutting his chin towards Tony. Steve smiles grimly.

“Will do.”

And then he has to clamber back into the stupid Iron Captain suit.

* * *

  


“Okay, JARVIS, roll to see if we’re going back to the compound or getting coffee.”

“The roll is a seven, sir.”

“Back to the compound it is. Bummer, I would have liked to see you in a coffee shop in this state.”

“This is a terrible day,” Steve says conversationally.

“Not on my end, Fight Club.”

“What?”

“The movie? Seriously? It was a muscles joke. God, you’re uncultured. You make me sick. JARVIS, roll to see if we’re watching  _ Fight Club _ when we get back.”

“It is a fourteen, sir.”

“Yes! Ooh, Steve-O, you’re gonna love this. Actually, you won’t, probably. On the bright side, Brad Pitt.”

Steve gets the distinct sense he is going to seriously dislike the movie.

* * *

  


“Nat, pop some popcorn? Cap here and I are gonna watch  _ Fight Club _ .”

“Possibly the best Brad Pitt picture,” Natasha says, nodding. “I’m on it.”

“That’s a crime against Brad Pitt,” Tony says, comically offended. “What about  _ 12 Years a Slave?  _ What about  _ 12 Monkeys? _ What, Natasha, about  _ Thelma & Louise? _ God, was he gorgeous in that one.”

“Who,” Steve says frustratedly, “is Brad Pitt.”

Tony’s eyes pop out of his head. He points an accusing finger at Steve.

“I am going to pretend you didn’t just say that and save the Braducation for another day when I don’t have full free reign over your every life choice, but just know you’ve made me feel like a failure of a friend. Who is Brad Pitt? Really? God, you make me depressed.”

“Cap doesn’t know Brad Pitt?” Natasha ventures, twirling around and then leaping gracefully over the couch in a manner that somehow keeps all of the popcorn inside the bowl. “Stark, I love your microwave.”

“Thanks, I built it,” Tony says offhandedly. “Yeah, but it’s for another day.”

“He’s on my list,” Natasha says.

“What list,” Steve grinds out.

Tony’s eyes widen at Nat, and then he bursts into laughter. “ _ No, _ ” he howls, slapping the couch. Steve stares. Tony cools down quickly, and then wipes his eyes. “Fuck. Seriously? That’s — oh my god. Also, he’s on my list too. But you have a  _ list? _ ”

“A list of celebrities you’d bang, if given the chance,” Natasha mercifully explains to Steve. “In a relationship it’s called a freebie list. You can have sex with them even if you’re in a committed, monogamous relationship.”

“For boring people it’s just a fun game, but for people who know famous people it’s a great resource. Pepper and I both have one,” Tony says. “JARVIS, play  _ Fight Club. _ ”

The TV lights up with the fanfare of 20th Century Fox.

Steve settles back. If nothing else, he can get a relaxing movie out of this day.

“Ooh, idea,” Tony says. “Lightbulb. Hey, Iceman, why don’t you make a freebie list while we watch? You can put Brad Pitt as number one, no secrets here.”

Steve closes his eyes. “You have to roll for it, Tony.”

“Ugh, fine. Ten and under means you make a list and don’t put Brad Pitt on it, over ten means you make a list and  _ do  _ put Brad Pitt on it.”

That’s cheating, Steve thinks, but doesn’t say. Because honestly, who cares.

“Two,” Tony says, reading the die on the couch cushion. “Fine. You can put Brad of your own volition on your freebie list.”

“I thought it was just called a list,” Steve says.

“Unless you’re in a relationship,” Tony answers, eyes glued to the TV.

“Which I’m not.”

“Oh? Not even with Robocop over there?”

“ _ Bucky? _ Tony, you know we’re not — that’s not — it’s not like that,” Steve stammers, definitely failing to hide the fact that he  _ wishes _ it were like that.

Tony pins Steve with a sympathetic gaze. “Ah. Internalized homophobia. They’re infected so young.” He pats Steve on the head, and Steve feels weirdly like he’s being reassured for something completely different than the actual affliction in his mind. “You’ll learn. In the meantime — watch! You  _ have _ to.”

“I know,” says Steve, and Natasha at least strokes his shoulder as if she empathizes, which Steve is sure she can’t. Nat would never be dumb enough to take this bet.

Fucking Barton.

* * *

  


By the time  _ Fight Club _ rolls the credits, Steve’s list reluctantly has four people. (Apparently you’re only allowed five. Whoever made up the lists must have been very, very high.)

“Okay, okay, okay, go over it again,” says Wanda, who sat down halfway through the movie after wandering into the common area, squished between Steve and Nat. "From the top. I missed the first two."

Steve clears his throat as the projection of the list Jarvis has been keeping for him appears in front of him. “Number one: Ingrid Bergman.”

“Why are all your celebrity crushes  _ old, _ ” Tony whines. “It’s boring when you can’t relate.”

Steve ignores this. “Two: Katharine Hepburn.” What can he say; he kind of does have a type. Maybe his type is  _ ladies who would have rejected him outright if he’d asked them out pre-serum. _ Maybe his type is brunettes. That would fit.

(At that point, Tony had rolled to determine whether or not Steve had to include men on his list, and when the nineteen came up, Steve had rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled for a long time.

“At least two,” Tony had pressed.)

“Ooh, I know her!” Wanda says excitedly. “I just saw her, in that movie with...Gary?”

“Cary Grant,” Natasha offers. “She made a lot of movies with him.”

Wanda snaps. “Him. The... _ Philadelphia Story _ was the title, I believe.”

“Yeah, that’s her classic,” Tony says, nodding. Steve lights up; here is his expertise.

“I saw that one in theaters,” he says, grinning. “Buck and I saved up, since we’d heard a new picture was coming out, with her in it.”

“That is adorable,” Wanda says, pinching his cheeks. Steve takes that in stride, because he likes Wanda.

“Aww, movie date,” Tony says. “How cliché.”

“It wasn’t a date, Tony,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “ _ Anyway. _ Three: Brad Pitt.” Because, after watching the movie, Steve begrudgingly has to admit: the man is  _ attractive. _ Illegally so.

“Called it! I totally called that,” Tony announces. Natasha throws a popcorn kernel at him.

“Brad Pitt is the one...the soapmaker, yes?” Wanda asks, squinting at the TV. “He is good-looking.”

“We’re converting them,” Tony says to Nat. “Listen, do you hear that? That’s the sound of my weekly Brad Pitt fan club gaining two more members.”

Steve is too afraid to ask if that’s actually a real thing.

“Four: Frank Sinatra,” he pronounces, and then slumps back against the couch. “Can’t I just have four? Two men, two women. I feel like that’s enough.”

Tony scoffs. “No way. Three of your guys are dead, Snowcone. I’m only allowing it because you don’t  _ know _ any famous people in this world yet.”

“Hillary Clinton?” Steve suggests, wrinkling his nose. “Never mind.”

“You could put Tony,” Natasha points out. “He’s definitely famous.”

Steve almost gags. “Thank you, Natasha, for giving me a nightmare that I’m sure will haunt me.”

“Hey, you could totally put me on there!” Tony says, looking affronted. “Hey, roll to see if I’m Steve’s last freebie.”

“Please, no,” Steve says desperately. “I’m not in a relationship, and I know you. Doesn’t that mean if you’re on my list I have to — you know. Right?”

“Have some faith,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “I have Pepper, and you’re not on my list, believe it or not. Short answer: not unless Pepper and I break up. But also, offended that you don’t want to bang me.”

Steve does not dignify this with an answer, and Tony rolls the die.

“Sixteen,” he says, with a wolfish grin, and he slowly turns to look up at Steve. “You get what you get, your honor. Put it on the list, JARVIS.”

“It is done, sir, and I have decided to refrain from commenting on this turn of events,” JARVIS contributes. “Would you like a printout of the list?”

“Wait,” Steve says sharply. Tony raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

“In case you forgot,” Tony says, “you are currently in the middle of the last deal we made.”

“No, seriously. Swap your name for Bucky.”

Why? Because Steve has already decided to black out this day from existence, mentally.

Tony falls silent and studies Steve’s face. Behind him, he can hear Wanda giggling into her hand (or it could very possibly be Natasha).

Finally Tony says, “You drive a hard bargain. Fine. We’ll add your boyfriend out of time.”

And Steve honestly  _ can’t _ argue that statement, because now Bucky is on his freebie list. And he is banking on the fact that Bucky doesn’t have a list. Because why would he. And even if he did, why would Steve be on it.

It’s a safety bet. A necessary evil.

“But I’m never forgetting that I was on your free-screw list for a second, there,” Tony adds.

* * *

  


Somehow — exhaustingly, mercifully — the end of the day draws near. Midnight is the cutoff and Steve is ridiculously grateful when 11pm rolls around and there’s only an hour left of the nonsense that his life has become.

So far he has also:

  * Put on his most summery outfit (which, to Tony’s chagrin, was just boardshorts and a wifebeater. He’s not a monster.)
  * Worn said outfit in Central Park, and been forced to acknowledge that he, Captain America, was in board shorts and a wifebeater to everyone who recognized him (“Roll low for Central Park, high for Times Square.”)
  * Added “I bequeath my supreme good looks and natural charm and ridiculously noble attitude to my best friend forever, Anthony Edward Stark” to his last will and testament (“Sixteen, which means you put me in your will, but on the bright side at least I won’t be on your  gravestone.”)
  * Drunk a Birthday Cake Frappuccino from Starbucks, which tasted like regurgitated vomit
  * At Thor’s prompting, been compelled to try and chug a full pint of beer in under 30 seconds, and succeeded (Tony had rolled to see whether it would be Steve or Tony drinking, but honestly Steve is glad he allowed Tony to dodge that bullet, even if it required him to bite one; a drunk Tony controlling his life choices would be bad for everyone involved.)
  * Asked Bruce, in the most genuine voice his acting attempt could muster, to explain radioactivity and the science related (“Okay, low roll and you ask Bruce to explain you some science, high roll and you ask Natasha about her past.” All things considered, he’d gotten lucky on that one.)



Now, though, it’s him, Tony, and Clint, sitting at the island, all munching on chips from the same bag.

“Okay, assessment,” Tony says thoughtfully. “How terrible was today, Cap. One to ten.”

“Eleven,” Steve says automatically. Clint snorts.

“Hey! I could’ve made it so much worse for you. Where’s the gratitude? Where is the  _ appreciation? _ Clint, you’re the only one around here who cares about me at all.”

“Someone misinformed you,” Clint says neutrally. “I don’t care about you or anyone.”

This time Steve laughs.

“Okay, roll to see if Steve will tell me the worst possible thing I could have made him do today, short of murder or anything gross like that,” Tony says aloud. Steve’s stomach drops.

But at the same time.

_ Fuck it, _ he decides already.

This roll won’t go his way, just like the majority of the rolls have not today. It’s fine. Today’s a cancelled day anyway.

“Ten and under and you tell me and Barton both, over ten you tell me privately,” Tony says. Steve smacks his forehead.

The die clatters across the island, a perfect mirror of this morning, and lands with a sixteen facing upward.

“Alright, Barton, clear out,” Tony says.

“No way, man,” Clint says. He grabs a handful of chips and narrows his eyes at Tony. “I was here first.”

“This is my house.”

“Yeah, and I got here first. You clear out.”

“I’m making JARVIS end all his answers to you with  _ you little bitch _ ,” Tony threatens. “You hear that, JARVIS? Whenever you address Barton, finish the sentence with  _ you little bitch _ .”

“Yes sir,” JARVIS says, in a voice that sounds curiously like a sigh.

Barton hoists himself up onto the island counter and smirks. “Worth it.”

* * *

  


They sit on the couch, the TV turned off ahead of them both, and Tony says, “Okay, spill. I know it’s something juicy and I promise, your secret is safe with me. What’s the worst thing I could have made you do? I won’t make you do it. There’s only half an hour left in the bet, anyway.”

So, here’s the deal.

It’s 11:30 at night.

Steve is tired.

He’s been dealing with Tony all day.

Despite the obvious mockery, he’s feeling also a weird sense of camaraderie with the man opposite him.

He could lie. Very easily. Transparently, but easily. Tony couldn’t force the truth out of him.

Instead, he tells the truth.

“I guess…” He huffs out a breath, and then laughs dryly. “Between you and me, Tony. If you’d made me confess to Bucky about — my feelings for him, that...might’ve been the worst thing.”

“Shit,” says Tony appropriately.

Steve nods. “You know what? It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was terrible and I would never do it again. But you’re not bad company, Stark.”

“Aha,” Tony says, jabbing a finger at Steve. “So you only call me  _ Stark _ when you’re being emotionally vulnerable. Good to know.” After a pause, he adds, “And I thoroughly enjoyed bossing you around, of course. Here.” He holds out the d20, and Steve takes it from him. “For — posterity, I don’t know. To use on some other sucker who make the same bet with you.”

Steve actually smiles. “You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met, Tony,” he says, and he’s never been more thankful that that’s true.

**Author's Note:**

> fun? i thought so. sidebar: the Iron Captain thing is a real headcanon i have (unlike the rest of this absurdity), which is that I definitely feel like Tony would've taken the precaution to make every single Avenger an Iron Man suit tailored to them, in case of emergency. he's that kind of person. anyway, thank you very much for reading! i'm on tumblr over at [@vivilevone](http://vivilevone.tumblr.com) so by all means come and talk to me! thanks again!


End file.
